


I'll Love You For A Thousand More

by Jar_of_stories



Series: Old Love Never Dies [2]
Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: Again, Cuddles, Doubts about the relationship, F/M, Freeform, How Do I Tag, I Made Myself Cry, Mentions of Violence, POV Sarah, Sarah Whitaker POV Freeform, Sarah tricks her old man, Sarah tries to understand herself, Sleepy Cuddles, character's thoughts, mental debate, mentions of killing, supposed to be cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jar_of_stories/pseuds/Jar_of_stories
Summary: Everything went to shit. Like - EVERYTHING. Her relationship with Deacon included.She wonders if her old man still feels something for her - other than the resentment for the militia bullshit.Well, there's only one way of testing that, right?
Relationships: Deacon St. John/Sarah Whitaker
Series: Old Love Never Dies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886959
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	I'll Love You For A Thousand More

**Author's Note:**

> I MADE IT!
> 
> I am absolutely and utterly SORRY for keeping you for almost 2 months without this conclusion!
> 
> There's no excuse for me - I HAD some unexpected changes in my life (drastic ones) but I let it affect my creativity for WAY too long.
> 
> I hope some of you, guys, who gave me kudos back in a day are still here - big respect, people.
> 
> So, here I come with the last part of this short series. It was the very first that I tried and I really liked how it turned out. This part doesn't sit with me as well as the first one but I feel proud of it nonetheless.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my DYNAMIC approach to this part and maybe even leave a comment - oh my God, if you di, I'll cry myself to death from happiness. Seriously.
> 
> BUT ENOUGH OF MY BLUBBERY! Let's get to the main entree!

“Sarah?”

She smiled when she heard her husband calling for her. She suspected he’d start looking for her when he’d check up on her. That’s partially the reason why she hid behind the Iron Mike’s cabin.

She couldn’t complain about campers’ treatment: they were very welcoming and outgoing people. Nobody ordered her to work or help – she did, of course. But on her own volition. Deek wasn’t too pleased and they had an argument since for some reason they couldn’t talk about stuff like that anymore. He was still sore but let it go eventually. But she needed to clear her head after that little disagreement.

The new reality hit them hard. Maybe even too hard. Both of them were hardened by the events no one should even imagine and they were forced to endure. Deacon was far more explosive and short – tempered than he used to be. He was never one to forgive easily or overlook shit – now he was straight up ruthless. When a group of Marauders showed up at the gates, he wasted no time or ammo and just shot them down – one by one. Six heads, six bullets. Two of them tried running – he took them down as well. The only things breaking the killing rhythm of gunshots were jerky clicks of the latch of the ejection port when he released a shell – case.

She should be terrified to see her husband’s survivor side. She should be screaming and running away from him. She should be repulsed by him. She should throw her band at him and tell him to go to Hell. She should run away from the camp, put as much distance between them as physically possible and then some.

That’s what Sarah Irene Whitaker from Before would have done.

But that Sarah was dead and gone. She was now a survivor.

So Deek’s brutal solution of the problem didn’t repulse her. She didn’t feel any kind of terror or anger when she saw her husband so ruthless and so inhuman. She admired his ability to make every bullet count, to nip the problem in the bud. He hated to be in charge of something and yet he didn’t flinch or argue when he became a leader of two camps. And the amount of trust from the campers didn’t come from nowhere – Deek was helluva responsible in his new role.

Sarah of course knew Deacon killed people even Before. He was a soldier after all – served with honors in Afghanistan. And in America “service with honors” meant “born to kill enemy”.

She giggled at the thought of Deacon in uniform, getting his rewards or whatever shit soldiers were given back then. Sweet Jesus, she couldn’t talk him into wearing a suit on their wedding! She’d pay good money to meet the person who managed to convince Deek to enlist and thus force him into an uniform. She wondered who and how managed to achieve the unachievable.

“Sarah, c’mon!”

She smiled devilishly. She _loved_ to annoy the shit outta him from time to time. Not – so – lil’ shit deserved that when he pissed her off with his irrational ideas, restrictions or God knows what else. Their short but fiery quarrel over her helping Abby in the infirmary was still fresh in her mind. Thank God Jinx and Boozer were there to pull them apart – she developed a temper that matched her husband’s one. And his own temper only grew shorter.

Sarah gently rubbed her arm, where Jinx’s hand clenched with a force of thousand Suns, leaving a red mark. _Fuck_ , that girl could send Boozer flying in no time if needed! How she managed to finish nursing and actually _be_ a nurse was beyond her.

She crossed her hands under her head, thinking about what Jinx told her about their relationship.

_“Both of you are stuck with who they used to know from Before – like, the capital ‘b’ before – and now you’re suffering from a fucked – up version of cognitive dissonance. Your vision of Deacon, how he used to be is different from how is he now. He has exactly the same problem. Dunno if it’s actually that but you’ve gotta excuse me – I’m a nurse, not a psychologist. You’re tryna' match the film in your mind with what you have now and guess what – shit ain’t workin’. You’re like… how do I… Oh! I know! You’re similar to two strangers who used to know each other in primary school and met again after graduation and started to act too familiar too son, thus weirding each other out. You gotta try to get to know each other again. Treat it like… falling for each other again. Does that make sense? Is that even English?”_

For somebody who was never been in a relationship, she knew exactly what was blocking them both. Sarah honestly didn’t know if Jinx told that Deek too but when she tried to apply to the nurse’s advice, her relationship with her Drifter actually improved.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work so well the other way around, which grounded her in the believe her husband didn’t have such a talk with Jinx. Shame, considering how helpful the girl was. Or maybe he did but he was too stubborn to listen? Sarah wouldn’t put it past him, honestly. He hardly ever stepped down and when he did – it was either because he was ill or it wasn’t Deacon St. John.

The main problem with him was that he missed the _old_ Sarah – from Before. The new one – survivor Sarah – wasn’t his cup of tea. He never had to be her knight in a shining armor, coming to her rescue. She loved to have him by her side, of course but she never _clung_ to him. Hell, a few times _she_ saved _his_ ass when his temper got the better of him.

But it was Before. Losing Deacon broke her heart and the vision of surviving without a man who got her out from overran town only made it worse. She didn’t know how to use a gun, much less how to fight, not to mention she never killed anybody. It was the first time she regretted refusing Deek to teach her how to shoot. Seeing the refugee camp getting overran with Freakers, then with the militia scarred her shitless. She was one of the very few lucky bastards who got recruited and taught how to handle themselves in the Shit. Surviving without Deacon by her side, completely alone in a place she never had been, surrounded by requisition forms, orders, reports, shifts and drills left a mark she could not erase anymore. While she still believed there was a way of _curing_ freakers instead of shooting them all – or “burning the last sonofabitch to the ground”, as Deek preferred, she also understood the relief that came with every swarmer shot.

Their main problem was the militia period. Since Matt would’ve lost his shit completely if he found out she and Deek were married, she had to keep it a secret. And that meant keeping her husband at a distance connected with ordering him around.

No great reunion, no romantic ride off the camp, no touchy – feely moments shared between them. Only strict boundaries, with “no touch” policy. Their contact limited to curt “soldier” and “yes, ma’am”, with those damned requisition forms. Radio contact? Observed, controlled, so the empty titles had to be there. Thank God Arturo taught her how to create a secure channel where she could try her best to reach out to her husband. Problem was, Deek must’ve taken it all in a different way. _As always_.

She couldn’t erase the pure hurt and distraught on his face when she told him she didn’t want to go anywhere from her mind. Every time he entered her tent he was guarded, avoidant and very distanced. Despite his visible desperation to talk to _his wife_ , not lieutenant Whitaker, he always listened – he didn’t agree on everything, managed to snap at her even but whenever she had any problem, he was there: offering a solution that included him running an errand for her.

And she couldn’t be more grateful for him. For staying when she needed him the most, for watching her back when everything went to shit, for being her best errand boy.

But she couldn’t be more grateful for him for keeping his vow to never leave her. _Twice_.

“Sarah, for fuck sake! Where the Hell are ya’?!”

Deacon’s voice was still far, far away. She had her sweet time for the time being.

And that was the part of her old Deek: loyal as a damn dog. Stubborn as all mules on the Earth combined and sharp as a tack. Ready to sacrifice his own life just so she could be safe. And unkillable it would seem.

_“Sarah, would he risk his, Boozer’s and basically the entire camp’s lives to save a woman he no longer loved?”_

She felt her eyes prickle when she remembered Jinx’s words when she complained about Deek’s lack of initiative. Of _course_ he wouldn’t play va banque with other’s people lives at stake, much less Boozer’s life when he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what he wanted to do. He may be a madman but he wasn’t like Matt – he’d never led his people for a senseless and pointless death.

“Hey, kiddo! Have you –”

“Mr. St. John! How can I help?”

“You’ll ‘Mr. St. John’ me one more time and I’m gonna skin you with my belt. Have you seen my wife, Sarah? Blonde, medium height –”

“Yeah, I know how Mrs. Whitaker looks like. I think she was behind the house? That’s where she went at least.”

“Thanks, kid.”

Well, her alone time was over, it seemed.

A brilliant idea came to her mind. She quickly changed her position a little, so she looked like she was dozing off on the bench. She forced her lips to uncurl from the shit – eating grin and relaxed her face into sleeping peace expression.

She heard his heavy, a bit fastened steps as he circled the main building in the camp, accompanied by the cacophony of buckles clicking, guns’ metallic clinks when they bumped against each other.

“Sarah? Babe, c’mon – oh, thank fuck!”

_Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh…_

“Sarah? You okay?”

His steps grew louder as he came closer to her, the slight limp still disrupting his regular strides. His worn out jeans were rustling in the same heavy yet gentle manner they used to over two years ago. The characteristic pattern how Deek would put down his feet: toes first, then the heel, a bit sideways, just as if he was sneaking up, almost completely silencing the click of the grip. The rough scrunch of his leather kutte caused by the powerful muscles, hidden underneath the almost skinny body build.

There were new sounds as well: his three guns that were bumping against each other with his every step, multiple buckles clicking while holding rough – and – ready holsters in their places all around Deacon’s body and the very unpleasant rustle of his shoulder bag.

“Hey, wassup?”

She melted internally at his gentle, concerned tone. How he managed to be so hot, harsh, irritating and sweet at the same time was beyond her but she’d be damned if she didn’t love that.

_Stay strong._

The elongated moan of his kutte accompanied by the unusual clank of his weapons hinted that he leaned over her to inspect the unusual nap on the location.

“Hey, baby.”

She murmured sleepily when big, bone dry and warm back of his hand touched her cheek as he checked her temperature. She felt the icy cold from his multiple rings when they managed to nip at her skin with their unforgiving frostiness but didn’t flinch.

Then Sarah purred when a calloused hand cupped her cheek as she leaned into the touch. Deek’s hands were as they always were: dry, scrapy in touch and _very_ warm. His rings did nothing to make her flinch as his palm was almost hot. The callousness didn’t get any worse since she last remembered, even if there wasn’t a day he wouldn’t use his gun. It was very soft and hard at the same time, with every well palpable interphalangeal joint on his fingers. His thumb caressed her cheek, melting her all the way to the core.

 _God_ , he was the most lovable person she ever met.

“What ya’ doin’ here, huh? It’s cold as shit, y’know?”

She sighed as if in sleep, trying her best not to smile upon hearing her husband’s complete lostness and banter with himself. She didn’t know he was such a talker, not to mention he was much more talkative to himself than towards her.

“Well, better to take you to bed before you catch some shit.”

He sighed and leaned down, if she remembered correctly his kutte’s moan. She felt his arms carefully sliding under her shoulder blades and thighs, as they used to those _n_ years ago when she passed out on the sofa.

And she smiled as she felt her hands once again ruining her disguise as they wrapped around his neck and shoulders, snuggling her face in his collar after all those years.

It wasn’t as scratchy as she feared. Actually, it was the same uncomfortable yet comforting prickling she remembered from nuzzling to her husband’s neck Before. He was also warm as he used to be. His strange ability to stay heated even after a long, fast ride must’ve remained intact, if the pleasant warmth was an indicator.

“Can’t believe I’ve fallen for the same trick after so many years,” Deek chuckled affectionally, gently griping her side and thigh.

“Good to see you too, honey,” she mumbled, nuzzling closer to him.

He smelled different. Not that she expected him to do life – long stock of his (her) favorite cologne when the whole apocalypse started. Or washing – powder. Yet his new scent was kind of familiar. The characteristic fresh smell whenever he rode his bike was still there, just as was the grease and that “mechanic” whiff when he used to repair cars and other shit people drove when they were still alive. The slight trace of forest clung to him for all these years, almost overpowering the gunpowder odor accompanied by the heavy, metallic stink of blood. Something she could now recognize without any doubts.

Deek half – sighed, half – grunted as he picked her up from the bench. Sarah reflexively clung to him, feeling his even more powerful muscles tense underneath her. He was always strong but his strength from Before was _nothing_ compared to him now. She didn’t have to see his body to know all those soft sides were now gone or replaced by the muscle tissue.

She chuckled in a low tone when she discovered Deacon didn’t bounce her. As if nothing changed, as if he spent the last two years on carrying her around.

The same way his hands curled on her body to get a stable grip. The same gentle step he applied so he didn’t bounce her. The same manner his muscles worked under her touch. The same way his clothes sounded when pressed against her side.

She listened to Deacon’s sounds: the steps as he was getting closer to the hut they shared with Boozer; the murmur of his breathing; the gentle clicking of guns and buckles on his body; the heavy rustle of his jeans; the ripple of his clothes brushing against each other.

She missed him. She missed him so Goddamn much. She hugged him even tighter, nuzzling her entire face into his neck.

“Easy, not gonna drop ya’.”

She _felt_ him chuckle more than heard. She sold him a playful slap on the collarbone.

“Ow!”

“Don’t piss me off, Deek,” she warned sleepily, almost completely lulled to sleep by his rocking.

She jumped when he kicked open the door.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No harm done,” Sarah mumbled in response. Their bunk was calling her name.

“There, nice and cozy,” he breathed as he lowered her onto the mattress. It didn’t sink, giving that beloved feeling of being swallowed by it – it wasn’t their “soft ass fancy bed”, as Deek baptized their king – sized lair she had so much trouble to get out of. She wouldn’t, if not her beloved husband who either made her _the perfect_ bath in the morning or gently woke her up with a kiss and a spell “Breakfast waits for ya’.”

She _whined_ at him, not letting him go just so he would stay with her. Unfortunately, Deacon developed a very nasty habit of skipping the night rest. It was frustrating, especially because the hard mattress they were forced to sleep on was _impossible_ to fall asleep on. She could only do it when she literally slept _on_ Deek. And when he was not around because he was trying to revenge the whole world or whatever shit he did at night, well – she had to make do with Jack. The puppy was a walking heater and grew like crazy, so she kindly warned Deacon about his position being in danger.

Her husband didn’t go cold and hot enough for her.

“You’re safe on the bed, you can let me go now,” he informed her in that half – serious, half – witty way of his.

“But I wanna be safe on bed with you,” she complained, tightening her grip on his neck.

“’kay but lemme go – gotta take my shit off.”

So with that sigh promise, she let him straighten up and listened to the new and old sounds of her new yet old husband: his black, worn out cap’s visor taping against the nightstand, his guns protesting with multiple, powerful clicks, bangs and bumps when he took off his shoulder bag and gently put it on the floor, making sure rifles were supported against the furniture, concluding from the quiet rap on the wooden floor. Then a quite loud clank of his holster buckle when he took it off and threw it on the already cluttered nightstand.

She cringed at the sound of his joints cracking from exhaustion and strain they were forced to endure in the name of survival. Deek hardly ever suffered from any kind of joints pains or muscle tensions – but Before he didn’t have to carry an armory on his back on a day – to – day basis. Not to mention the constant fighting in the Shit, where he had to take down few hordes each day, so the camp could live a few days in peace.

“You gotta move if I’m gonna fit in there.”

She sat down reluctantly, allowing him to lay down with a grunt on the hard mattress. When Deacon was putting his legs down on the bed, she straddled him so they could manage themselves on the tiny bed.

“You like sitting on me like that, dont'cha?”, Deek teased with that naughty smirk on his lips.

Sarah rolled her eyes and popped down on him, earning a very laud, long half – moan, half – huff when she forced the air out of his lungs.

“ _Fuck_ , that hurt,” he puffed out, slightly changing his position. She made herself comfortable on his broad chest with a complacent “hmpf”.

She melted upon hearing his heartbeat. The very same strong, rhythmical cycle of his valves closing and opening, creating the sound that brought peace to her mind whenever she felt anxious or overwhelmed. The loud, calm murmur of his breath when he inhaled and exhaled, connected with the same lulling pattern of his chest rising and falling that used to soothe her to sleep were still doing its magic.

She wrapped her arms tighter around him and was sad when they curled herder than Before. deacon was always athletic and thin but now there was even less of him to embrace.

“Honey, there always hasn’t been much of you but there’s even less of you now,” she teased him in sleepy manner, shimming to lay down a bit more comfortable on him.

“Oh for fuck sake, even _now_ you’re gonna tease me ‘bout that?,” he groaned, annoyed but covered her with the duvet – like covering.

“I love the every little piece of you that remains,” she cooed at him, nuzzling her cheek into his sternum. He was the first person thank who she survived all this Hell. Finding him again, the crippling thought of her husband dead smashed into pieces at the sight of his shocked yet relieved face was the best thing that had happened to her in those shitty times.

She may not say that often enough Before but now she was determined to show him how much he meant to her.

“I love you too, Sarah,” he croaked out with quivering voice that flowed with raw emotions he was still fighting to control, much less express. His heart skipped a beat, started to flutter in the slight tachycardic arrhythmia and then settled down again.

He meant every single word he said. His lips may lie but the way his body reacted could never. So she knew Deek may have his new vagaries now but every one of them was fueled by the need to keep her safe and sound.

“Good night, Deek,” she mumbled on her way to sleep, fighting it just so she could hear his reply.

And his reply was an affectionate kiss on the top of her head, connected with stroking on her back and a soft:

“Good night, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, me again~
> 
> Thank you, dear Reader, for your time on this short gibberish of mine. If you liked my kinda' weird style of writing, then I humbly suggest hanging around my profile as I'm currently working on a chapter - story from Days Gone. It'll take a while, like A GOOD WHILE but I hope it'll be worth it.
> 
> Not trying to spoiler anything but I'd love to present you my OC character - Jinx in a full light as I am a fan of her - how can I be a fan of my own character?
> 
> Man, I must be more tired than I think I am XD
> 
> Stay safe, Readers and once again - big, juicy thank you for wasting those few minutes of your precious life for this little freeform.
> 
> *bows 'till her nose hits the floor*


End file.
